Page 19 of A Curse for the Homesick

RAMNA SKAILL

2022

My dad drove me to on what should have been Linnea and Henrik’s wedding day. I lay flat in the back seat of the car because I didn’t want anyone to see me. I had a beanie pulled down over my eyes, but I kept them shut anyway. My dad wasn’t singing along to his music, but I asked him to. Just to make sure he was still alive.

He stopped the car. Opened the door. A burst of wind came rushing off the water, so loud my dad had to yell to be heard.

“Need a hand?”

I took it. He led me down the stairs. I remembered walking this path the night of that party in Year 12; I remembered how narrow it was, penned in by an angry ocean. I had the uneasy sensation of being walked down an aisle: veiled, blinded, and given away.

“We’re in front of the door,” my dad said. “Do you want me to wait with you?”

“No. Please.” Linnea and Kitty would be there soon. We’d made a schedule.

My dad paused. I could picture him with that look on his face—the nervous one, when he was afraid he’d say the wrong thing.

“Do you want me to stay out here?” he asked finally. “In the cottage?”

“You have to run the shop.”

“I could work during the day and come back at night. In case you need anything.”

“Don’t. We’ll be fine, Dad. I promise.”

He pulled me in for a tight hug. Once he was gone, I shut the door and took off the beanie. Puffs of wool clung to my eyelashes. I could still hear the wind outside: howling, gathering its breath, howling again. It was dark in the keep, the curtains drawn, the power off. This was the room where everyone had danced at that party. Now the stone was swept clean. A rug the color of wine stretched across the floor, and a hearth sat empty behind it. Above the mantle, where you’d expect to find a painting, there was instead a carving done straight into the wall. Interlocking knots formed a ring around three ravens. Where the stone had been chipped away, it was lined with red ink.

Each floor was narrow, with just a few rooms. The kitchen and bathrooms had modern appliances; I’d half expected chamber pots.

There were three bedrooms upstairs. It seemed obvious I should take the one at the end of the third floor, seeing as I’d had sex in it, but once I stepped inside, I felt ill. I considered moving my duffel bag to one of the others, but I could hear voices downstairs—Kitty arriving—so I just shut myself inside until I was sure her mother had left.

The heat turned on around the same time Linnea showed up. There were promises of bedding and shampoo and homemade casseroles, which would have to be scheduled and delivered with painstaking care. For the first time, the three of us uncovered our eyes together in the hearth room.

Skelds can’t turn each other to stone. That’s the only consolation, really: company.

Linnea’s hair was tangled messily across her forehead, almost obscuring the three black lines. Kitty had her hair pulled back into a bun, putting the mark on defiant display. I looked at them, and the skeld’s mark, with the unmoored sensation that I’d seen them like this before and would see them like this again.

“I’m supposed to be getting married right now,” Linnea said.

“We know that,” Kitty told her.

“Well, I wanted to remind everyone anyway.”

I got the fire going, and then we sat in front of it in a circle with our knees touching. Where my body didn’t face the flames, my skin tingled. I’d expected the cold, but I hadn’t realized it would be like this: a sapping, like the stone of the keep was bleeding heat out of me.

“We need to pick keepers,” Linnea said.

“We don’t,” I said. “We absolutely do not.”

“It’s a good idea to have someone nearby in case something goes wrong.”

“That’s why they invented the cell phone.”

“Come on, Tess,” Kitty said. “We all know it’s as much about the island’s safety as it is ours. They’ll want people to keep an eye on us in case we go mad and decide to go turn everyone to stone for fun.”

“That’s horrible,” Linnea said. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“I think I’d look good as a madwoman,” Kitty said.

“Shut up.”

We both looked at Linnea. She had never told us—perhaps anyone—to shut up.

“You’re not funny,” Linnea said, then looked away.

Kitty cleared her throat. “Right.”

I gazed into the fire. They were both right: we were in danger; we were dangerous. But keepers were more likely than anyone else to die during a skeld season. It was just the terrible sort of thing we expected to happen at . I watched a twig smolder to charcoal at its axis and finally snap, falling into the embers. Outside, a gust of wind spat rain across the mottled windows. If you listened closely, you could hear bells clanging from somewhere—probably a fishing boat just offshore.

“We could ask Hedda,” Linnea said.

“Hedda is somewhat busy running the entire island,” Kitty said.

“But she’d make us food.”

“And the rest of the island would starve.”

“What about our mums?” Linnea asked.

“I am not asking my mum to spend three months living in an ancient cottage with a fucking blindfold on. She has better things to do. I don’t see why we’re even debating this. We already know who it’s going to be.”

I pulled myself away from the fire and looked at Kitty. “What’s that mean?”

“They made a pact. Like, eight years ago.”

“No,” I said.

“Henrik, Soren, and Lukas?” Linnea asked.

“That was—” They both turned to me. “Different.”

Linnea hugged her knees into her chest. “Henrik has already left me about four voicemails about it.”

“And Soren and Lukas are my cousins,” Kitty said. “And they already promised. Remember?”

There was a long silence. I looked down at my hands, the purpling of my fingernails in the cold. Finally, quietly: “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” Kitty asked, even though she knew exactly what.

“Not Soren,” I said.

“He’s my cousin.”

“It’s not right.” I looked at Linnea. “He’s—I wouldn’t want Saffi to think—”

“Saffi knows you’re still friends,” Linnea said.

“We aren’t friends. We’re uncomfortable acquaintances. And you can’t hold him to a promise he made when we were eighteen and dating.”

“I don’t understand why you have so little faith in Soren’s ability to make his own decisions,” Linnea said.

I blinked.

“Ooh,” Kitty said. “Harsh.”

“I’m sorry, but he can keep himself safe. You don’t need to spend your whole life trying to protect him.”

“Yeah,” Kitty said. “Think of all the free time you’ll have once you quash that hobby.”

I stood. “I need air.”

“You can’t go outside.”

“Then just—please, just give me a minute.”

I could feel their eyes on my back as I went up the stairs. In my room, I wiped my palms on my thighs and paced the stone floor, trying to steady my breathing. A raven shrieked outside, and I startled so hard I slammed into the bed frame.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and found his name. When he answered, there was a lag before he spoke, and in that pause, I could hear his surroundings: the wind; the sea.

“No,” I said.

“No?”

“I don’t want you here.”

“It’s important to Linnea and Kitty.”

“Well, it’s important to me that you’re far away, okay?”

“Tess,” Soren said softly. “It’s fine. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Maybe I just don’t want you around.”

“I know it’s a risk. You think I’d let Henrik and Lukas take it without me? And besides, Kitty’s my cousin, and Linnea’s one of my best friends. I trust all of you. This is something I want to do.”

I kicked the door hard, and the hinges clanged. My eyes were burning from the pressure of not crying. “You’re not listening to me.”

“And you’re not listening to me.”

“I didn’t throw my home away just so you could fucking die! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to admit that I don’t want you dead?”

“Is that how you feel about Stenland?” he said. “Like you had to throw it away?”

I focused on swallowing the knot in my throat instead of trying to answer.

“Tess.”

“I don’t want you,” I said.

“I’m sure your boyfriend will be relieved to hear that.”

Heat spread up my throat. “As a keeper,” I said. “Dick.”

“In case you’re forgetting,” Soren said, “one of us has seen a lot more skeld seasons than the other. And I’ve been able to take care of myself so far.”

“I don’t want you to do this,” I said.

“Well fucking aware.”

“But you’re going to be a keeper anyway.”

“Yeah, actually, I am.”

“Because you think Stenland needs protection from me.”

“Because you fucking matter to me!” he said.

I stopped pacing. Listened to the rattle of his breath. Behind him, the wind howled.

I pressed my forehead against the stone wall and let my eyes fall shut. “It would be better if I didn’t.”

He said, “Obviously, Tess.”